Empty Glass
by Baubles
Summary: [mildly AU] Kuroro's search for the Nen eraser, aided by a certain treasure hunter. [chapter two is up!]
1. White Powder and Colorful Tablets

**空ガラス**** Empty Glass**

**chapter one white powder and colorful tablets**

_Oh, beauty is such a sin; Kurapica could only watch in dumbstruck horror as he watched them gouge the eyeballs out and pop them into tubes filled with a strange looking liquid. He could feel his own eyes turn scarlet as rage rose – the man with sleeked back hair seemed to be the mastermind behind the massacre. His intuition had never been wrong; fate invited them to a short conversation of threat through eye contact. _

_Cold, dark eyes met his scarlet ones. Cold dark eyes that betrayed no emotions but of calamity, staring stonily back at angry, scarlet irises._

'_I will hunt you down, no matter where you will go. I'm not ever, ever giving up. I want to fight you, and protect the honor of my tribe!' screamed Kurapica, his arms kept by his side, fingers clenched in a tight fist, trembling with fury, itching to throw a punch at the emotionless man who stole everything away from him. The Genei Ryodan, famed band of thieves – he never dreamt, even in his deepest nightmares, that they would assault this plain little village. _

'_When you're prepared, come find me and take your revenge, girl,' answered Kuroro almost in a disdainful snicker. _

_At that moment, Kurapica wanted to lash out at Kuroro, bring his fingers around his throat, choke the life out of that horrid man, make him beg for mercy… but Kurapica knew he wasn't strong enough. He knew. He felt so weak, so miserable, and so helpless… He could only clench his jaw in unspoken agony and ball his fists so hard, until his knuckles turned white and his palms bled from his fingernails' force. He could only cry silent tears then. Not today – revenge is sweet, isn't it?_

--

Who knew, that this seemingly ordinary day was the day where Kuroro came to Kurapica, a captive.

Kurapica was dressed up in secretarial clothes, and the wig made him look more feminine than ever. Kuroro sat next to the Chain Killer, bound by chains; the third finger of Immobility. Kuroro couldn't help observing the male beside him; the porcelain complexion, the delicate lips, and elfin facial features that screams femininity.

'What are you looking at?' he snapped, noticing his captive's eyes fixated upon him. Kurapica was particularly moody whenever he was around anything related to Genei Ryodan or poor innocent spiders.

Kuroro seemed to contemplate answering his question; he took his time to think up of the answer, knowing well that the Kuruta would be infuriated. He smiled, using a pleasant tone to reply.

'Nothing. I just hadn't thought the one we are searching for is a woman.' The dark-haired man couldn't help allowing the corners of his lips to quirk up at his ill-concealed amusement derived merely from watching Kurapica rile up.

'I don't remember telling you I was a female.' Kurapica pulled off his wig, feeling extremely jerky at the moment._ How dare he! _'Don't rely on appearances.' Kurapica clenched his jaw tight, attempting to rein his temper in. The insult Kuroro had left him five years ago replayed itself in his head, and it was adding fuel to the fire.

'Pay more attention to what you're saying,' said Kurapica as calmly as he could, casting a baleful glare at Kuroro. 'They could be your last words.'

'You won't kill me,' Kuroro answered calmly, tucking away the desire to snort at the less-than-terrifying threat he had just received from the irate Kuruta. 'Because you want to get your friends back, right?'

'Don't provoke me,' hissed Kurapica, clearly aggravated already. 'I'm not in any position to stay calm!'

'Kurapica! Calm down!' came Leorio's voice from the driver's seat.

Kurapica opened his mouth to retort, but shut it again, gritting his teeth in silence.

'In the prediction of the girl… none of this was mentioned,' began Kuroro. 'Doesn't it mean I needn't be warned? In other words, Kuruta, what you are doing now is insignificant.'

'What!' uttered Kurapica in outrage, his eyes widening. Kuroro had no doubts that his eyes were scarlet now under the black contact lenses. Kuroro merely continued smiling – to him, it was nothing more than two friends having a chat over a cup of tea in a café.

'Kurapica!' cried out an anxious Senritsu from the front seat, twisting back to check on the blond.

'If you kill him, you will have to deal with me,' warned Leorio, hoping to threaten Kurapica to calm down. There was still Gon and Killua as hostages. There was no way they could risk losing them; besides, Kuroro was clearly getting on his nerves successfully, and the blond was taking the bait. Five years have flown, yet Kuroro could easily toy with Kurapica's emotions like puppets on a string.

Glaring venomously again at the man in the frivolous costume, Kurapica scowled, but remained silent. The car drove on, the engine purring like a cat being stroked. The blond diverted his attention to the window, watching the thunderstorm outside lash out on city York Shin. Raindrops rattled the metal roof of the car, like blunt bullets clawing blindly at the vehicle. The raindrops splashed against the windows, in slanted streaks of fluid, winding ribbons disappearing to the bottom of the glass pane.

Leorio turned on the window wiper, as the raindrops began to fog the glass. There was quietness, the only sound coming from the cranking of the wiper. Time passed; people were exchanged, there was a death, many injuries, and one disappointed clown.

--

Kuroro couldn't help snorting whenever he remembers Hisoka's face of disbelief. Hisoka wanted to challenge Kuroro to a fight, but the chain snaked around his heart had disallowed the usage of his Nen abilities. The clown had left in disappointment, and somewhat quitted the Genei Ryodan, considering he had removed his tattoo; or rather, a piece of Nen.

The man was left in the hilly, rural areas of the oh-so-modern York Shin city. It was probably the border between York Shin and some other country he wasn't too sure about. He did travel a lot, being the leader of the brigade of bandits, and besides that, their missions often took place in different continents every few years. The last time was at Sonisco, if his memory hadn't failed him yet.

This time, Kuroro was traveling again; except, he was alone, and trudging towards the East, or Chikage, a modern metropolis near the East Garuto.

A week had passed.

Kuroro had exchanged his flamboyant costume for more modest clothing. No trench coats with so much fur trimmings that they could jolly well make him sneeze, or tight pants that could possible render him incapable of having children; a plain collared shirt was draped over his broad shoulders and muscled upper torso, loose and comfortable slacks fitted to his hips. His hair was no longer coated with gel that choked his scalp. It was allowed to fall over his forehead, styled by the wind only. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead to cover the tattoo, and in overall, his attire was rather similar to those he donned during the York Shin auctions. Those ridiculously large jewels (or baubles, as Hisoka calls them) were tucked away, replace with simple silver studs.

The dancho definitely had sufficient money to live on for a good half a year; some were robbed from unsuspecting passers-by during the night, some pickpocket-ed, others were stolen from charity boxes. In other words, whatever money he has never reached his hands legally – what do you expect from the leader of a brigade of bandits?

The city was peppered with bright lights, as it was plunged into darkness. The sun had sunk, bringing the last rays of scarlet with it, disappearing behind the horizon. Stars spangled the darkened sky, the blazing sun exchanged for the luminous glow of a crescent moon.

Kuroro wandered around the streets late at night, scanning the mass of concrete buildings for a victim – preferably a drunk and rich person. Well, he could take on a boxer or karate black belt even without his Nen abilities, but sometimes, he likes to pretend he's strong by picking weaker enemies. Hah.

'Bakabakashii!' yelled a voice suddenly; Kuroro's ears immediately pricked up, listening for the source of the angry shout. It sourced from a little alley not far away. Curiosity got the better of Kuroro; he decided to investigate. As he edged closer towards the dark narrow alley, he became careful – another reflex action. He pressed his back to the wall, inching towards the mouth of the passage, his ears listening intently for any other movement.

'I am not a freaking drug dealer, I told you already!' the same angry voice continued. It was calmer and less agitated than before, as rage has been repressed. Maybe it was dealing with someone important or has significant control over the yelling person.

'Then what is the white powder I found in your pocket, huh, you filthy little liar?' spat a new voice. 'Or would you care to explain the colourful tablets you've been munching on happily, and all the puncture marks on your arms?'

'The white powder, incidentally, is my brother's medicine, those colorful tablets are sweets, and the punctures came from the glasses I broke during flair bartending practices!'

'Oh, really? I don't believe you. Glasses leave _cuts_, not punctures!' Clearly, the other voice was losing any more support for his evidences. The other voice was paused, perhaps scowling or glaring balefully at the other party.

'It's none of my business if you don't believe it,_ keisatsu_,' retorted the other voice. 'I have to go for my performance already. Now, let me go!'

'No, I will not,' the other voice called back. 'You know, twenty-thousand jenis can solve it…'

'You're not asking for bribery, are you? You corrupt police!'

'You ask for it, brat!'

Kuroro's shadow flitted across the alley, blocking the light rays of the streetlamp. The dancho of Genei Ryodan glimpsed what is going on; a blond male with a crew cut was grabbing the collar of a teenaged girl. The so-called police turned around, sensing the waver in the light source.

'Who's there?' his nervous voice called out. Without a warning, the girl seized the opportunity and landed a punch on his nose, hard enough to make him stumble backwards in pain.

'Don't you dare to run away!' screeched the man. The girl turned and was running away. He managed to get up on his feet and successfully tackled her. The dark-haired female fell chest first onto the hard pavement floor; she struggled to worm out of his vice-like grip, clenching her jaw tightly in concentration.

He had scaled the wall, climbing up to about seven feet high. He then jumped down, aiming at the male; his feet connected with his spine. There was a crack, and Kuroro was very sure the man was more or less injured badly to release his grip. He did.

The female clawed blindly on the floor, trying to get up - in that moment of fear, her legs had turned into wobbly pillars of jelly, and it was quite a task to stand up. When she managed to struggle to her feet, she was panting heavily, clutching onto the lamppost for support, sweat beading her forehead, still reeling from the shock.

'Are you alright?'

The female spun around to meet Kuroro, who had somehow snuck up behind her back. She flinched at his sudden appearance behind her back, and she patted her chest out of habit.

'O-oh, I'm fine. Thank you,' she nodded. 'That _ketsunoana_ there desperately wants money, hence he's accusing any roaming idiots of some retardedly fabricated crimes and I happen to be one of the roaming idiots he found.' She sucked her lips in, lowering her eyelids, glancing away almost shiftily.

'Of course, those aren't drugs,' answered Kuroro, tilting his head to get a better look at the female. 'I know. It's sodium cromoglycate, to reduce inflammation and prevent asthma. Am I right? And those colourful tablets are actually sweets from a brand called Zalatimo. It's something like M&Ms, with colorful casing and chocolate inside, but this one looked like a tablet in order to escape lawsuits of copyright infringement.'

She looked stunned at his knowledge. 'H-how did you know all these?' she gasped, her eyes widened in surprise.

'I just read a lot.' He smiled, handing the packet of white powder and colorful tablets to her. 'I snitched them from the police officer's pocket. Here.'

'Read a lot?' she quirked an eyebrow, pocketing them.'No kidding. You must've read a whole library to actually know these… Say, you are a newcomer to town right? I believe I've never seen you around before.'

'Well, I guess you could say that. I'm sort of a wanderer. I don't have a specific home.'

'If you don't mind, you can always drop by my place, in case you run out of money from renting motels.' Shrugged the female nonchalantly. 'Oh, and I realized I hadn't given you my name – well, I'm Jun Mephistopheles. You?'

'I'm… uh, Kuroro Lucifer,' the dark-haired man answered, regretting his decision for giving out his real name for a split second. 'That would be really nice.'

'I assumed you don't have any luggage... as for clothes, you can always borrow my brother's old ones, if you don't mind.' smiled Jun. 'Let's be off now.'

As they left, their shadows shrinking and their footsteps softening, the police officer groans.

**A/N: **

**Sodium Cromoglycate: It's really an asthma-related medicine. Kudos to Google for the information. (: **

**Bakabakashii: direct translation of 'stupid'.**

**Baka: do we all not know this? **

**Ketsunoana: direct translation of 'ass'. **

**Obasan: middle-aged woman. (according to my elder brother who's learning Japanese)  
**

**Anyway, this is my first fan fiction, feel free to review and comment. Constructive comments are welcome; please don't just tell me my story just freaking sucks without telling me why. Thanks. (:  
**


	2. Stranger than Stranger

**空ガラス**** Empty Glass**

**chapter two stranger than stranger**

They walked past rows of shop houses. They were built in elegant French styles, with lovely wooden shutters replacing curtains, and each was two storeys at least, the balconies embellished with delicate carvings and motifs.

Jun paused in front of a particularly white shop house. It was more of grey, with streaks of paint running down the building, tainting the whitewashed concrete. It was evidently a consequence of the acid rain, which hit the urban areas of York Shin many years ago.

The long-haired female rummaged in her pockets for a while, and then pulled out a ring of keys. There were definitely more than ten keys, of different shapes and sizes. She singled out the thickest and longest key, slitting into the matching keyhole. She turned clockwise seven times; each click was different. One sounded like a chalk dropping on the floor, the other sounded like knuckles rapping against wood – it was quite interesting. Then the door swung back inside, opened.

'This house is rather dusty, since I hadn't been back here for a good two months. I had been traveling around East Goruto…' Jun then fell silent, seemingly unwilling to divulge more information of her whereabouts. She had been less-than-cautious enough already, inviting a complete stranger to stay over at her home.

_I have been living alone for so long after all, _she argued. _He looks like a reasonably fine man, he saved me from that freaking police officer, and he's a wanderer. I seriously don't see any harm. _

Her hands groped around in the dark, and with a click, light filled the room. Jun closed her eyes quickly, a reflex action at the sudden gush of light, as her pupils cannot take it. She squinted painfully after a few seconds, and slowly got used to the light.

There was a flight of staircases directly in front of them; way behind was numerous doors, a fireplace, a huge beanbag couch that could easily fit two dozens, and tables of various shapes and materials littering the space.

Kuroro could barely contain curiosity as surveyed the surroundings. This was one, oddly furnished room. There were no hints of a good taste of furniture, but mere random collections of priceless antiques and second-hand goods. His head tilted upwards to see the ceiling lamps; again, a range of lamps that had no relations to the non-existence theme of the room hung from the peeling ceiling, anything ranging from round glowing balls to naked bulbs.

'Um, if you don't mind,' interrupted Jun quietly, noticing that her guest was very much fascinated by the interior design. 'I'd show you to the room you can stay at.'

'Thank you, please,' nodded Kuroro. Jun lead him up the two flights of staircases, presumably up to the third floor. The third floor was just as strange, if not stranger than the first floor. The carpet was a quilt of various patterns, anything from Persian to lacy flowers. This time, instead of lamps hanging overhead, there were studs of bulbs enclosed in domes arranged to stick onto the ceiling, in neat rows. As usual, there were numerous doors.

Jun walked down the aisle of doors, and picked one, which was painted a dazzling gold colour. Kuroro felt a little insecure about the brightly painted door. He quirked an eyebrow at it beneath his bandage.

'This room?' there was a faint trace of doubt in his voice.

'Yes.' Jun leaned over, twisted the knob and opened the door. Kuroro sighed inwardly as he quickly scanned the room, realizing the same bizarre theme had been imposed on this room, just like the living room and the third floor aisle. A seamless sheet of ridiculously furry carpet acted as paint for the room. It covered every inch of the ceiling, walls and floor – the absurd furry-ness reminded him strongly of his own trench coat with the furry trimmings that often made him sneeze.

He half expected to find a similarly themed bed, but was relieved to find that it was just like any other regular bed, until he sat down on it and felt his whole butt sink in.

'The finest and softest down feather from the Norwegian Blot bird,' answered Jun almost proudly upon seeing Kuroro's bemused face that was barely visible. His legs were only visible actually, since half of his torso had sunk in. He swung his legs back and forth, and then finally managed to straighten himself up to a more graceful sitting position.

'You can explore the house more, since it's really a fascinating house. Every generation of the Mephistopheles have more or less lived here, and well, my family was an odd bunch of people, including myself,' shrugged the dark-haired female smilingly. 'I've discovered really funny things too when I get bored playing hide-and-seek with my siblings as a child… I remember discovering my grand father's secret stash of porn in one of the rooms. My grand mother almost made sure he wouldn't need his um, precious any more. She's the fiercest woman I've ever known.' Jun shrugged, chuckling softly.

'If you want, you can sleep now… I'm just going to make something to eat. You want some food? Name anything, we have it. I just hope the fresh food's not expired yet…'

'It's fine, really,' declined Kuroro politely, and stomachs never lie. Jun paused, looking at him. Then his stomach rumbled. Kuroro blinked, grinning sheepishly.

'I'd make you a family special, since your stomach doesn't agree with your words, Mister Lucifer,' grinned the female. 'I'd ring you up in a mo when it's all done.'

'Thanks,' he replied sheepishly. Then she left, shutting the door behind him. He got up from the crazy bed that was trying to swallow him, and gazed mundanely at the giant life-sized glow stick that was stuck at the far corner of the room in the sea of furry-ness. His sharp eyes glimpsed a seam next to the glow stick. Out of curiosity, he crept over to it, and felt about in the mass of furs for something like a knob or a hook. _Maybe there is another secret stash of porn_, thought Kuroro, snorting to himself. His fingers slipped into three holes; it reminded him strangely of bowling balls. Without further ado, he yanked the little door open – the whole door fell apart, considering the strength Kuroro had, and that the hinges had rusted and aged.

_Oops, _thought Kuroro guiltily. _I guess I shouldn't have used that much strength eh? _He peered inside the hole anyway, tossing the broken door aside. There were no movements of air, meaning there was no secret passage or any sort of nonsense. Bravely, Kuroro stuck his hand and groped about, until his fingers brushed against paper and leather. He pulled the unknown object out, and saw that it was – a book.

_What the hell? _He thought, bemused. He held the book up, examining it. He brushed the dust bunnies off the book, and proceeded to open it; books had always been something he loved, hence the Nen book. He couldn't open it. _If this is sealed by Nen, I'm so screwed. Damn that demented Kuruta! _Kuroro cursed the blond for a moment.

--

Kurapica was just lying in bed. Suddenly, he sneezed. _Who the hell just cursed me? _Wondered the Kuruta sleepily, as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. He went back to sleep.

--

Kuroro tried to pry the book open. It wouldn't. Scowling, he tossed the book aside, leaning against the furry wall, but suddenly sat up in shock at the sudden furry-ness intruding the nerves of his back through his shirt. He leant back again, almost glaring balefully at the book. There was an absence of titles written on the cover; perhaps it's some sort of a journal of diary, and was meant to be kept a secret, hence being locked away behind that miserable door. Kuroro bent forward to touch it again. His hand spazzed as the loud blast of a foghorn or some sort of a trumpet nearly spliced his eardrums.

'Kuroro – time for eats!' came Jun's voice from the first floor, very mildly muffled by the barriers of doors. Kuroro was rather surprised by her loud voice; she seemed so petite. Kuroro reminded himself not to judge anyone ever again by appearances, considering how he had first thought the skinny blond was nothing to be afraid of.

'Coming!' he yelled back in answer, equally loudly. He shoved the book under his bed and stuck the door crudely back into its frame, the seam covered by the madness of the flying furs. He exited his room, and quickly descended down the stairs, sneezing as the dust bunnies floated towards his nose. It was way worse than his bloody trench coat.

'Oh dear,' Jun cocked her head, her ponytail bobbing as she did. 'I see you've met the dust bunnies?'

'Yes, I have indeed,' coughed Kuroro, rubbing his nose so vigorously until it turned red. 'What's for eats anyway?'

'Bacon and cheese spaghetti,' answered Jun, peeling the green tartan apron off herself and tossing it onto the giant beanbag couch. 'Come with me to the dining room – it's sort of integrated with the kitchen, and it's almost the only place with a working television.'

Jun chose a yellow door with black polka dots and a shiny silver knob. With a twist of her wrist, she opened the door, and led Kuroro into the kitchen-cum-dining room. It was almost stifling warm, perhaps due to the cooking Jun had been doing earlier.

It had normal-looking white washed walls with a rather rough surface of little stones and pebbles embedded into the paint. The ceiling was a puzzle of different sized and shaped of tubed fluorescent lights, and a suitable amount of lights were lit up, since if Jun turned on all the lights, they could jolly well be blind, considering the huge amount there was.

The table was large and rectangular, a wooden top that resembled planked floor, supported by cold metal legs. A transparent sheet of plastic was thrown over, presumably to protect the mahogany. A fairly modern looking gas cooker was tucked away in a corner, flanked by an empty metal table and the sink. A small black cauldron sat on the gas cooker, steam rising from the opening; _must've been the spaghetti, _thought Kuroro watching it. He was famished, and whether or not her culinary skills are good or bad, he'd eat anything.

A flat television stood on a metal stick, various coloured wires almost devouring the stilt. The remote control was stowed safely behind the television on a sort of a mini shelf. He removed the remote control, and sat down very cautiously on the velvet-padded chairs. _Ok, so it isn't madly soft like the bed_, he thought. Kuroro flipped through the channels, and was irritated by the constant flow of gourmet shows.

Jun approached him, and laid a plate of spaghetti in front of him, then handing him a Spork. Kuroro examined the strange cutlery he was holding – looks like a cross between a fork and a spoon.

'That's a spork,' said Jun, answering to his curiousity. 'It's a cross between a fork and a spoon, in case you've never seen it before.'

Their dinner was conducted in silence, diminished by the television. When they finished, Jun collected the plates, and left them in the sink.

'I'd wash them tomorrow, you don't have to help,' insisted Jun firmly, pushing Kuroro away from the sink. 'You're the guest, and well, you'd be doing me a huge favour just by keeping your own room clean, thank you. We'd talk tomorrow, okay? Oyasumi nasai.'

'Right. Oyasumi.' Kuroro couldn't help smiling a little. He paused. 'Where's your room, anyway?'

'It's on the fourth floor,' answered the female. 'I'd go to bed later, I um, have some business to attend to.'

'Don't stay up too late.'

'Of course.' Nodded Jun, her eyes traveling over his bandaged forehead, then back to his dark eyes. She turned away, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Kuroro couldn't resist smiling at her back. _Good, _he thought. _Good. _

He ascended the flight of staircases up to the third floor, finding his gold-coloured door. It wasn't that hard, though he noticed there were neon pink doors, and even one that glowed in the dark. He snorted softly, and then entered his own room, shutting the door behind.

He threw himself onto the bed in a childish manner, chuckling to himself, as he sank into the bed. It was almost like the quick sand he had experienced a couple of years ago where he was at Ryuusegai, where he had his feet almost devoured by some life-size foul beetle.

Kuroro felt relieved to sleep in a proper bed, after a week of sleeping on trees and hammocks. He sighed blissfully. He sat up with a little difficulty (he was slowly getting used to the sinking-effect of the mattress), and grabbed the quilt folded neatly in front of him. His head fell on a less-softer pillow, there, he drifted off to a peaceful slumber for once, without worrying if squirrels are drooling over him or birds are going to leave droppings all over him.

**A/N:**

**A late Merry Christmas to all, and keep the reviews coming. (: Happy Boxing Day, I guess. Heh. **

**Oyasumi Nasai: good night**

**Spork: I don't think there'd be a need to explain this, eh:D**

**Chapter Three in progress  
**


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